


Of Mice and Men

by Seraphtrevs



Series: Only You [6]
Category: Better Call Saul (TV)
Genre: Abandon all hope ye who enter here, Consensual Sort Of, Drug Use, Face Slapping, Humiliation, M/M, Mind fuckery, Multi, Rough Sex, Threesome - M/M/M, domingo is a little shit, domingo is in over his head, drugs are bad mmkay, lalo is a sociopath, nacho is tired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:27:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23283988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seraphtrevs/pseuds/Seraphtrevs
Summary: Domingo wondered sometimes what that would be like—to have everyone afraid of you. To be the one who must be pleased, instead of doing the pleasing. He dreamed about that feeling.But it wasn’t for him—not yet, anyway. His job was to be a good soldier for the Salamancas. Rewards would follow. Look how far Nacho had come. No reason it couldn’t be the same for him.Domingo thinks he's ready to play with the big boys. But when it's cat versus mouse, things rarely turn out well for the mouse.
Relationships: Domingo "Krazy-8" Molina/Eduardo "Lalo" Salamanca, Domingo "Krazy-8" Molina/Eduardo "Lalo" Salamanca/Ignacio "Nacho" Varga, Domingo "Krazy-8" Molina/Ignacio "Nacho" Varga, Eduardo "Lalo" Salamanca/Ignacio "Nacho" Varga
Series: Only You [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1658944
Comments: 33
Kudos: 74





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So it turns out I'm not done with this series after all, ha ha. I've got at least two more stories planned. 
> 
> This one was getting loooong, so I'm posting it in two parts. Next part should be up in a couple of days.
> 
> Thanks so much to Rrismo for help brainstorming!

__

_But Mouse, you are not alone,  
_ _In proving foresight may be vain:  
_ _The best laid schemes of mice and men  
_ _Go often askew,  
_ _And leave us nothing but grief and pain,  
_ _For promised joy!_

_Still you are blessed, compared with me!  
_ _The present only touches you:  
_ _But oh! I backward cast my eye,  
_ _On prospects dreary!  
_ _And forward, though I cannot see,  
_ _I guess and fear!_

\- Robert Burns, "To A Mouse, On Turning Up Her Nest"

Domingo had lost his gun.

He wasn’t sure how it was possible. How could anyone be so stupid as to lose a gun, especially one given to him by Lalo Salamanca himself? The gun had been made untraceable, specifically for cartel business. He couldn’t exactly go to the local gun shop and replace it.

Things had been going so well otherwise. He had a badass name—Ocho Loco, Krazy-8. A gift from Lalo, rewarding him for his submission. Sure, he'd gotten it for being bad at poker. But soon no one would remember that—people would just think he was so scary that even the Salamancas thought he was crazy.

He’d been to prison. It had been for getting caught repairing a drain pipe filled with drugs rather than for something cool, but still. That would earn him respect. Anyone who was anyone had been to prison.

Best of all, he’d executed his part in Lalo’s plan perfectly, and was now an indispensable asset. At long last, he was someone important.

And he was going to blow it if he couldn’t find that fucking gun.

It wasn’t in his apartment—he’d turned the place upside down. He took the gun with him making the rounds on his turf but hadn't drawn it at any point.

At last, it hit him. He’d taken it with him to the bathroom at El Michoacáno, setting it down in the cleaning supply closet while he did his business. Nacho had summoned him—in his hurry to comply, he’d forgotten all about it.

He had to find it before someone else did. Fortunately, he was now a trusted member of the inner circle; he’d been given a key to El Michoacáno since the cartel kept supplies there. It was night now—no one would be around. He could slip in, get the gun, and slip out. It would be like it had never happened.

Part one of his plan went fine. He got in no problem, and sure enough, the gun was where he left it. Relief washed over him. But his relief was short-lived when he heard someone at the back door. He froze—who could it be? What were they doing here?

Robbers? Rival gang members? He readied his gun—he would protect the Salamancas’ interests, no matter what. Slowly, he opened the bathroom door a crack.

It was Lalo and Nacho. Another wave of relief—followed by panic. He couldn’t explain what he was doing there. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He had to think of some excuse.

Or wait them out. This late at night, they had probably come to pick something up. With any luck, they’d be gone in a few minutes.

He kept the door open a crack to keep an eye on them, although his view was incomplete. Lalo was…turning on the grill?

“I tell you, it tastes different when you cook on a real, restaurant grill, like this one,” Lalo was saying. He was chatty, relaxed.

“Sure.” Nacho, skeptical.

“It’s true, and I’ll prove it to you.” There was a clanging of pans, followed by the staccato of a knife on a cutting board.

“I don’t see why this couldn’t have waited until tomorrow.”

“Because I am craving these tacos _now_. And it’s not just the grill—it’s the salsa here. I keep asking the proprietor to give me the recipe, but I think he’s fucking with me because mine never turns out the same.”

He was going to cook? Would they eat here? Domingo ran a hand through his sweat-damp hair. If one of them had to use the bathroom, he was a dead man.

“He’s not fucking with you. You probably just did it wrong.”

Domingo sucked in his breath. Had Nacho really just criticized a Salamanca to his face, and so disrespectfully? He waited for the inevitable and possibly violent rebuke, but it didn’t come. Instead, Lalo just laughed.

They talked business while Lalo cooked. They’d just returned from scaring off some unsanctioned dealer in their territory—no one big, from the sound of it, just some punk who didn’t know better. For half a minute, Domingo considered trying to sneak out. But no, he’d have to walk right past them to get to the back door, and he’d have to unlock the one in the front. He was stuck.

The clink of a plate. “There. Now you will see how wrong you are.”

Nacho ate slowly, as if pondering each chew. “It tastes the same,” he finally said.

Lalo threw up his hands in exasperation. “Ay, you are hopeless!” But he wasn’t upset. If anything, he seemed amused.

Domingo had never seen anyone so casual with Lalo. Everyone was either desperate to please him or terrified of letting him down. Domingo wondered sometimes what that would be like—to have everyone afraid of you. To be the one who must be pleased, instead of doing the pleasing. He dreamed about that feeling.

But it wasn’t for him—not yet, anyway. His job was to be a good soldier for the Salamancas. Rewards would follow. Look how far Nacho had come. No reason it couldn’t be the same for him.

They ate, chatted more, and cleaned up. Lalo’s voice dropped, becoming…sultry? “I must confess—there’s another reason I brought you here.”

A snort. “I can guess. Don’t you ever get tired of sucking my dick?”

…what? Domingo shook his head. He must not have heard right.

“Do you ever get tired of getting it sucked?”

A sharp laugh. Nacho never laughed. “Why here?”

“Change of scenery. And we have unfinished business from last time, if you remember.” Lalo moved forward. “I was so mean, teasing you like that. Let me make it up to you.” Soft sounds—kisses.

Domingo couldn’t believe what was happening. The thought refused to form in his mind. Lalo Salamanca, kissing Nacho Varga. He pushed it out. No. No, it couldn’t be happening. Men like them, they weren’t—they couldn’t be—

There must be something he wasn’t understanding. Or maybe he was hallucinating. It was wrong, disgusting—that was what he told his best friend Gabriel in high school after their “practicing” for girls went too far. They’d go to hell. They’d get their asses kicked. They’d lose their families, their friends. They had to stop—

He opened the door wider to get a better look. Lalo steered Nacho into the dining area, pushed him up against a table. A few more kisses and then Lalo dropped to his knees, pulling at Nacho’s fly. Wet sounds. A soft moan.

Domingo had to get out of there. Quiet as a mouse, sneak out the back, no one would know, don’t forget the gun—

He might have made it if he hadn’t stopped to look. Nacho’s head was thrown back, his lips parted, one hand resting on Lalo’s bobbing head. Nacho, his childhood hero. Never in a million years did he think he’d see him like this.

Breathtaking. His cock hardened.

Furious with himself, he turned away. But in his haste, he tripped and face-planted. The gun skittered across the floor.

Lalo sprang to his feet while Nacho cursed and struggled with his fly. “Who the fuck is that?” Nacho sputtered.

 _Shit._ Domingo could try to run, but what was the point? They’d catch him anyway. His only option now was to grovel and hope that Nacho would get him out of this alive.

In a moment, Lalo was looming over him. Domingo forced himself to meet Lalo’s gaze, ready to face his fury.

But Lalo wasn’t furious. He was smiling.

“Who is it?” Nacho called again.

“No one, amorcito.” His grin grew wider as he grabbed Domingo by the arm and forced him to his feet. “Just a little mouse!”

With a laugh, Lalo pushed him into the dining room and then into a chair. “And what are you doing, scurrying around the restaurant after hours, hmm?”

Domingo looked to Nacho for help, but his face was stone. He swallowed. “I-I left my gun here, in the bathroom.”

“You forgot your gun?” Lalo shook his head. “Oh, Ocho Loco. You really are crazy. Why wouldn’t you say hello to us when we came in? Did you think you’d be in trouble?” He laughed again, darker this time. “Well, now you really are in trouble, aren’t you?”

Domingo started shaking—he couldn’t help it.

Lalo waggled his eyebrows at Nacho before turning back to Domingo. “I am going to ask you a question, and I want you to answer truthfully. What did you just see?”

Domingo looked back and forth between the two of them, his heart beating so hard he could barely hear. “N-nothing.”

Lalo roared with laughter. “See, I told you!” he said to Nacho. “Here, watch this—” He leaned down closer. “Here’s what you saw. You saw six hippos in tutus dancing ballet. Am I right?”

What was he talking about? Another test of his obedience, like the poker game? “Yeah, sure.”

Lalo whooped again. This was not how Domingo expected this to go.

“Nacho, you should try,” Lalo said. “Go on, tell him what he saw. Anything you want.”

Nacho shot a disapproving look at Lalo. He got between the two of them. “Where’s your gun?” he asked quietly.

Domingo blinked. “I dropped it over there.”

Nacho retrieved it and gave it to him. He encouraged him to his feet. “Now you have it. Go home.”

Domingo sagged with relief. Nacho looked out for him, always.

But when he started for the door, Lalo blocked his way and plucked the gun out of his hands. “Go home? When the night is so young?” Another wide, lazy grin. “I think Ocho Loco wants to stay.”

 _Stay?_ Domingo’s heart stopped.

Lalo set the gun on a table and stepped in closer. “Did those dancing hippos excite you? I think they did. I can see it in your eyes.”

“Lalo.” Nacho’s voice was stern. Imagine, being stern with a Salamanca.

“What?” Almost a pout. “It could be fun.”

Nacho crossed his arms. “What happened to _only you_?”

“I said no girls, and no men.” Lalo circled around behind Domingo and laid his hands on his shoulders, his fingers digging into him like claws. “I said nothing about cute little mice.”

Adrenaline pumped through his veins. He needed to think, but how could he, with Lalo Salamanca pressed up against his back? Lalo’s breath ghosted over his ear. “I’ve seen how you look at him, all that hero worship in your eyes. You want him, don’t you? Of course you do—who wouldn’t? Come home with us tonight.”

What to say? Like there was a choice. When a Salamanca wanted you to do something, you did it.

Look how far Nacho had come.

Domingo forced himself to relax. “Yeah, okay.”

Lalo released him. “See? He wants to come!”

Nacho’s jaw tightened. He strode forward, took Domingo by the arm as Lalo squawked in protest.

He led him to the door. Domingo could smell him from this close—musk and a whiff of expensive cologne. His shirt was expensive, too, and tailored perfectly to his strong frame. It was a far cry from the boy Domingo had grown up with—the son of a struggling immigrant upholsterer.

Look how far Nacho had come.

Nacho let go of his arm, unlocked the door. “Go home, Mingo. This never happened.”

Lalo moaned in disappointment. “You’re no fun!”

Nacho’s eyes were hard as always, but there was something else there, like there had been on the day he’d beaten Domingo on Don Hector’s orders. Something desperate. “Go. Home.” A command.

Domingo’s gaze skittered over to Lalo, who was pouting. He had a real opportunity here—to get in even closer with the Salamancas, to prove to Lalo that he would do anything for him. Just as Nacho had, apparently.

Never mind that Nacho wanted him to leave. He never wanted Domingo to take the same risks he did. He didn’t think Domingo could handle it. But he could.

Domingo surged forward and kissed him. His lips were softer than he expected, and tasted of spices.

Lalo whooped his approval and bounded over to them, wrapping an arm around Domingo’s waist from behind. “There, now,” he said to Nacho, his chin resting on Domingo’s shoulder. “How can you say no to such a sweet kiss?”

Nacho narrowed his eyes. “You’ve had your fun. Let him go.”

Lalo tutted and put his lips against Domingo’s ear. “I think he’s jealous,” he said _sotto voce_. “Not an attractive trait, if you ask me.”

Nacho’s nostrils flared. He pushed past them, headed back toward the kitchen.

Lalo laughed. “Where are you going, amorcito?”

“To get my keys. Unless you want to fuck him here.”

Domingo could feel the low rumble of Lalo’s chuckle against him. He arched his back just a little, pressing his ass against Lalo’s groin. Lalo’s dick was hard—hard for him. Domingo let his head fall back and sighed.

Lalo hummed his approval and fondled him through his jeans. Domingo sucked in a breath, every nerve on fire.

“No, not here,” Lalo agreed. “Let’s take this party home.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this fic is getting even longer than expected. Feels kind of unbalanced to have one short chapter and then a super long one, so I'm breaking it up into three.

Domingo and Nacho were the same age, although it felt like Nacho was older. Their dads started their businesses in America at the same time and leaned on each other for support. Domingo had three sisters and Nacho was an only child, so Nacho became the brother that Domingo never had. They wrestled, built a fort in Domingo’s back yard, chased his sisters with worms.

Nacho was always better—faster, stronger, smarter. Domingo didn’t mind, because Nacho never rubbed it in his face. In fact, he talked him up—told the other kids how smart and cool Domingo was, even though in reality he was slow and awkward. But no one would contradict Nacho, and so, like magic, Domingo became smart and cool.

The Molina business flourished. The Varga business struggled. And then when Nacho was eleven, his mother died. Business got worse. The Molinas offered to lend Nacho’s dad money, but he was too proud. He sold their house, moved him and Nacho into a shitty apartment.

Their money had been rejected, but his parents did whatever they could to help in other ways. His mom practically adopted Nacho, having him over every day after school, feeding him, helping him with homework. Domingo tried to be a good friend, but something hardened in Nacho when his mom died. He didn’t want to play anymore. _We’re too old for little boy games_ , he’d said.

The Varga business stabilized at last, although it was never as successful as the Molina’s furniture store. Domingo’s dad sent Domingo and his sisters to a private Catholic school. Nacho dropped out when he was seventeen to help at his dad’s shop, although he got his GED later. They still hung out, but they were in two different worlds. Domingo found himself jealous sometimes. Nacho didn’t have to worry about violin lessons and scholarships and college applications. He was already an adult while Domingo still lived the micro-managed life of a child.

They drifted apart. Then, during spring break of his senior year at the University of New Mexico, Domingo ran into him at a party. Except Nacho wasn’t there to have fun. He was there to sell drugs.

It shocked him. Nacho had always been a dutiful son—it would kill his dad if he ever found out. Domingo almost told his parents—maybe there was something they could do to help. But in the end, he’d said nothing. Nacho ran his own life. Something that Domingo didn’t have the courage to do.

Domingo graduated—a degree in business, just like his father had wanted. He’d made him turn down a scholarship to Oberlin, saying that music was too frivolous, even though he’d been the one who made him take violin in the first place. There was never any question of where he would end up—in the family business, running the damned furniture store. With every year that passed, Domingo felt more and more trapped. He started to understand Nacho’s choice. He’d do anything to escape the suffocating life his father had planned for him.

So he showed up at Nacho’s door and asked him for a chance in the drug business. Nacho said no. _Don’t be stupid._

_If it’s stupid, why are you doing it?_

He never had an answer.

He said no the second time, and the third. It was only when Domingo went to a rival gang that Nacho stepped in. _You want to fuck up your life, fine. I’ll keep you alive, for your mom’s sake._

_Thanks, Nacho. I knew you would help me._

_Help? You think I’m helping you? You stupid motherfucker._

Nacho brought Domingo into the fold, as he said he would. But they weren’t friends anymore.

***

Domingo rode in the back of Nacho’s Javelin. Lalo chatted and laughed. Nacho’s replies were curt. Domingo couldn’t really follow the conversation—too much emotion swirled in his head. Anticipation. Fear. Desire.

Lalo had been right. He did want Nacho. Back in Domingo’s experimental period, the image of Nacho would drift into his jerk-off fantasies. He imagined running his hands over Nacho’s pecs, being held in his strong arms, taking his big dick in his hand, maybe even kissing it—

After he came, guilt would wash over him. Nacho was practically his brother. He’d kick his ass if he ever knew Domingo had such dirty thoughts about him, and he’d deserve it.

He never imagined Nacho might have secret desires, too.

Lalo ran a hand up Nacho’s thigh as he drove, leaning in to whisper something in his ear. Nacho batted him away, told him to behave.

Lalo made a face. “So grouchy, Nachito!” He turned to Domingo. “Has he always been like this?”

Domingo snapped back to the conversation. “Like what?”

“Serious. Kill-joy.”

What should he say? “I don’t know. I guess.”

“Really? You never played games when you were kids?”

Domingo backtracked. “No, we did.”

Lalo grinned. “But not the games you wanted to play, eh?” He laughed and slapped Nacho’s arm.

Nacho rolled his eyes. “Don’t be such a pervert. We were kids.” His tone wasn’t affectionate, exactly, but it lacked real bite.

Lalo put a hand on Nacho’s dick. “Not anymore, though.”

Nacho pushed him off again. “If you make me crash the car, you aren’t fucking anybody tonight.”

It was like watching a lion tamer put his head in the lion’s mouth. Any minute, the jaws would clamp shut, popping his skull like a hammer hitting a melon. But the bite never came. How the fuck had Nacho tamed a Salamanca? Could he teach him?

They pulled up to a house—Nacho’s. Domingo had only ever seen it from the outside. Lalo bounced on the balls of his feet while Nacho unlocked the door. His eyes flashed yellow—but no, a trick of the light, from a passing car.

Lalo looped an arm around Domingo’s shoulders. “Ocho Loco, Ocho Loco,” he hummed in his ear. “You ready to show me how crazy you are?”

Domingo tried to smile. He wasn’t sure it was successful.

Nacho opened the door and disabled the security system. Lalo tumbled in after him, dragging Domingo along.

Lights flickered on. Domingo stared in amazement. It was like a catalog, all sleek and classy. Much nicer than his parents’ place, which was big but tacky. This was a grown-up house. Impressive. Important. Whoever lived here mattered.

“You want a beer?” Nacho asked.

Domingo started. “Uh, yeah, sure.”

Lalo flopped on one of the red sofas in the living room. “I want a beer, too!”

Nacho retrieved one beer from the fridge and handed it to Domingo. Lalo opened his mouth to protest, but Nacho spoke before he got the chance. “Can I talk with you a minute?” He gestured with his head toward the hall.

Reluctantly, Lalo pushed himself up and followed Nacho down the long hallway, and then through a door, which shut with a slam. Domingo huddled on the love seat, his stomach churning too much to even sip his beer. He couldn’t make out the exact words, but it was an argument.

Nothing about this made sense. Once the first shock of seeing them together had worn off, Domingo thought he understood what was going on. Being gay would get most guys killed in this business, but Lalo wasn’t most guys. He was a king. Kings always played by different rules. And Nacho, being a loyal servant, obliged his appetites, for which he was rewarded.

But the other pieces didn’t fit—Nacho’s casual disrespect. Lalo’s pouting. That car ride home. And now an argument behind closed doors. They didn’t sound like a king and his servant.

They sounded like a couple.

At last, they emerged, Lalo huffy and Nacho severe. Nacho folded his arms and leaned against the wall as Lalo sat down beside Domingo. Lalo lifted the beer from Domingo’s hands and took a long drink before speaking. “Nacho thinks that perhaps I have coerced you into coming with us tonight. So, here is my deal to you—if you want to leave, I swear on my abuelita’s life that no harm will come to you. As long as you keep your mouth shut, of course. Just say the word, and Nacho will drive you home.”

Lalo put a hand on Domingo’s knee. “Or—you could stay.”

Domingo could feel Nacho’s eyes on him, but he didn’t look up. He already knew what he’d see—that firm I-know-what’s-good-for-you glare, like he was his big brother. Except big brother here had made the opposite choice from what he was trying to push on Domingo, and look what it had gotten him. A huge house, a fancy car. Money. Authority. Respect.

Domingo swallowed. “I want to stay. Please.”

Lalo threw up his hands. “You see? I was right! You worry too much.”

Domingo glanced upward, setting his chin in defiance, ready to meet Nacho’s angry gaze.

But it wasn’t anger that met him. It was pain.

Lalo finished Domingo’s beer in one long gulp and tackled him to the sofa, kissing him everywhere. Domingo tried to kiss back, but the way Lalo handled him made him feel like his participation was not required.

Domingo managed to break away and sat up, trying to find Nacho. But he wasn’t there.

Lalo also noticed his absence and scowled. “He’s just pouting because I was right and he was wrong.” Lalo patted Domingo’s ass. “Go get me a beer.”

He retrieved two beers from the fridge. His stomach still churned, but it would be good for his nerves if he could get one down. When he returned to the couch, Lalo took them both. “I didn’t say you could have a beer, mouse,” he snapped.

Domingo looked down. “Oh. Sorry.”

Lalo’s mood had shifted, the manic energy gone as he glared down the hallway. Domingo folded his arms across his chest, and then made himself unfold them. This was an opportunity. He couldn’t be afraid now.

Lalo chugged one of the beers and spun the empty bottle, gazing at it moodily. “Music,” he finally said. “That’s what we need.” He picked up a remote and clicked it. The stereo roared to life, and some of Lalo’s bad mood lifted. “You dance, mouse?” he asked, grinning again.

“S-sure,” he stuttered, and winced. Not very sexy. He tried again. “I can do anything you want.” There. Much more sultry.

Lalo’s grin widened. “Go on, then.”

Domingo shut his eyes and willed his self-consciousness away. He imagined himself at the club. While he was never the best dancer on the floor, he wasn’t the worst, either. It was easier to get girls if you could dance a little, so he’d practiced. He brought those club girls to his mind, too, tried to imitate what they would do when they were showing off.

He peeked an eye open. Lalo looked—well, not overcome with arousal, but entertained, at least. Lalo caught his gaze and smirked. “What are you waiting for? Take off your clothes.”

A striptease. Right. He toed off his shoes and unbuttoned his shirt. His hands only shook a little.

He drew it out as long as he could, but all too soon he found himself standing naked in the middle of Nacho’s living room. He ventured a glance down the hall, to see if Nacho was coming back. The door to his bedroom remained closed.

A mistake, because Lalo’s gaze followed his, and his scowl returned. “Come here,” he said. Domingo started to walk over, but Lalo held up a finger and waggled it. “Uh-uh. Crawl.”

Domingo's blood turned to ice. He flashed back to Nacho’s warnings—he had practically begged him to go home. But there was no helping it now. He had to see it through.

He got on his hands and knees and crawled across the living room. It wasn’t far to go, but by the time he was at Lalo’s feet, he was shaking as if he’d crawled across the desert. His gaze was cast down, but Lalo grabbed his chin and forced him to look up.

“You know, this night isn’t turning out how I had hoped,” Lalo said. “If we hadn’t caught you sneaking around, I’d probably be snuggling in bed after a nice, hard come by now.”

Fear spiked in him. Was he about to lose an ear? “I-I’m sorry.”

Lalo let go of his face and chuckled darkly. “I bet you are.” Without warning, Lalo drew back his hand and slapped Domingo across the face, hard enough that his teeth rattled. He fell to the floor with a cry.

“You going to stay on my floor all night?” Lalo sounded happier now, but in a way that spelled bad things for Domingo. He could call out for Nacho’s help—would that make Lalo angrier? Would Nacho even respond? Maybe he had washed his hands of him.

His only hope was total submission. So he picked himself off the floor and knelt at Lalo’s feet again. Lalo grabbed his face, brushing his thumb over the tears that streaked his cheeks. He hadn’t realized they were there.

“And what are you going to do to make it up to me?” Lalo demanded.

Domingo swallowed. “Anything you want.”

“A dangerous promise, little mouse.” Lalo leaned down, a gleam in his eye. “Braver whores than you have balked at the things I want.”

His heart slammed into his throat. This was it. This was how he died. Not in some shoot out, not shanked in the shower in prison. No, he’d die naked on his knees after having god knew what done to him—Christ, he was so _stupid_ —

Lalo threw his head back and roared with laughter. “But maybe I’ll be satisfied by something more conventional.” He leaned back and spread his legs.

Not hard to figure out what he was after. Domingo’s hand flew to his belt buckle. He could suck dick, no problem. It had been a few years, but hopefully it was like riding a bike.

Domingo made quick work of his fly and took out his rock-hard dick, already wet at the tip. It was huge—a good ten inches. No way would he get the whole thing in. 

He wrapped his hand around the base and kissed the head before licking down the length, all the way to his balls and back again. Another lick around the head before he wrapped his lips around it. He let his mouth water, getting Lalo’s dick nice and wet, and lowered his head, pulled slowly up, then down again.

Lalo’s moan sounded surprised. “You’re good at this,” he said with a chuckle. “Had a lot of practice?”

Was he supposed to answer? He popped off, licked his lips. “Some.”

“With who? A boyfriend?”

He lowered his gaze. “No. I had a friend, in high school.”

“Ah, experimenting.” Lalo ran a hand through Domingo’s hair, his eyes slit like a lazy cat. “Just until you could find some girls, yeah? That’s what you’d tell each other. Tell me—did you ever pretend this friend of yours was Nacho?”

What did he want to hear? “Yeah.”

It was the right answer because Lalo moaned again. “But you couldn’t have him, could you? Did he break your heart?”

He flashed back to the look Nacho had given him before disappearing into the bedroom. He was pretty sure it was the other way around. “Yeah,” he said instead. “Yeah, I was devastated.”

“And you still can’t have him,” Lalo said. “He’s mine. No one else’s— _mine_.” The last word was a growl.

Domingo had no idea how to respond to that, so he went back to sucking his dick. It seemed like a safe bet.

Or at least it did at first. After a few minutes, Lalo rocked his hips—shallow thrusts at first but soon growing deeper. Domingo tried to accommodate more of him, but he was so big, hitting the back of his throat with every thrust. Soon he was gagging. He tried to pull away, but Lalo grabbed fistfuls of his hair and thrust harder—he couldn’t breathe—

Hands at his shoulder, pulling him off. He stumbled backward, coughing, sucking in breaths as he tried not to throw up. Through teary eyes, he beheld his savior—Nacho, nude now, taking Domingo’s place between Lalo’s legs.

Lalo’s eyes flew open, and his gaze softened. “Nachito,” he murmured, cupping his face.

Nacho said nothing. He took Lalo into his mouth in one slow descent. Lalo moaned, but he was gentler now, letting Nacho set the pace.

Domingo hadn’t been aroused before, but watching Nacho in action made his dick stir. He sucked cock well—of course he did. He did everything well. Lalo's cruelty melted away as he caressed Nacho’s face, his neck. Eventually, he pushed Nacho gently off. “Bed,” he breathed.

Nacho gracefully got to his feet. Domingo remained on his knees, not sure whether or not he hoped they forgot him. But Lalo snapped his fingers. “You too.”

Domingo trailed after them to the bedroom, as grand as the rest of the house. Nacho pulled Lalo onto the bed, drew him into kiss after kiss as he undressed him. Lalo’s hands were gentle. What had Nacho done to draw out such tenderness from a beast like Lalo?

Domingo didn’t know what to do, so he remained standing awkwardly by the bed, his arms wrapped around himself as he shivered. Once Lalo was naked, he left Nacho’s embrace and took Domingo by the arm, pulling him into bed. Domingo fell between them with a yelp.

Lalo ran his hands up and down Domingo’s body, stopping to fondle his dick, kissing the nape of his neck. Nacho kissed him too, on his lips, his cheek, behind his ear. Lalo’s erection bumped against his ass. Nacho's cock rubbed against his groin. Domingo’s dick hardened. His nerves still screamed from Lalo’s rough treatment, making the shift into pleasure all the more intense. A soft moan escaped his lips.

Lalo moved his head over Domingo’s shoulder to kiss Nacho briefly. “Which end do you want?” he asked.

Which end of him, he meant. Shame pulsed through him at the idea of being used—but excitement too.

Nacho didn’t answer right away. “Do you want to do some coke?”

Lalo grinned. “Excellent suggestion!”

“It’s in the front bathroom. We’ll clean up while you get it.”

Lalo headed out of the bedroom, leaving Nacho and Domingo alone in bed together. Domingo was still in his arms, not sure of what to do now that Lalo was gone. Because Nacho didn’t want him here. He tried to read his expression, but it was closed off, as usual.

Nacho touched his cheek, where Lalo had hit him, making Domingo wince. He rolled over and rubbed his own face before getting out of bed.

“Come on,” he said, offering a hand to him. Domingo took it and allowed himself to be led into the bathroom.

Nacho started the shower; it was big enough for five people, with an assortment of fancy attachments. A thought came to him. Was Domingo the first person they brought into their bed? Nothing special, after all. Disposable. No getting in good with Lalo, forgotten the moment the night was over. He really was an idiot. He expected Nacho would use this opportunity to vent his anger, tell him _I told you so_. Domingo’s whole body shook—he couldn’t stop it.

“Hey,” Nacho said. And then, to his shock, he pulled Domingo into his arms and kissed him—gentle, reassuring. “It’s just you and me right now. You’re okay.”

He kissed him again, and it was everything Domingo had imagined years ago—strength and tenderness, wrapped into one. Gradually, he stopped shaking.

Nacho pulled back. “I’ll get you through this. If you get scared or uncomfortable, make a fist, like this.” He didn’t clench his fist so much as close his hand. “I’ll redirect him, okay?”

Some of his tension eased. “Okay.”

They got into the shower. Nacho rubbed a soapy washcloth over Domingo’s body, between his legs. It felt good; his dick was fully hard now. Nacho gave himself a quick rub down and then took one of the shower attachments—a hose with a tapered black end.

“Do you want to do it yourself, or have me do it?” Nacho asked.

Domingo blinked. “Do what?”

“Clean you out.”

Realization dawned on him, and he blushed. “I don’t know how.”

“Okay, I’ll help.” He turned the overhead shower off. It was so steamy by then that Domingo didn’t feel cold. Nacho turned down the temperature until it was lukewarm. “Turn around.”

It felt weird, but not bad, and it only took a minute. Nacho shut off the water and put the attachment back. “You ready?”

 _Does it matter?_ Deep breath. “Yeah. Let’s go.”


	3. Chapter 3

Lalo was coiled naked in the bed, propped up on one elbow with his head resting in his hand. With his other hand, he casually stroked his massive erection. A hand mirror with lines of cocaine lay in front of him. He showed his teeth when he saw them, and sniffed. A bit of white powder clung to one nostril.

He patted the bed and winked at Domingo. “Come on. I will be nice, I promise.”

Domingo froze in place until Nacho put a hand on his lower back and gently encouraged him forward. It made him feel better. He didn’t think Nacho would direct him to the bed if he thought Lalo was going to rough him up again. Then again, Nacho himself had beat the shit out of him at the behest of another Salamanca.

He couldn’t think about that now. Nacho promised he would get him through this.

Lalo sat up as Domingo crawled into bed beside him. The bed dipped as Nacho got in as well.

Lalo reached a hand toward his face; Domingo flinched. “Here, now,” Lalo tutted. “I promised to be nice.” He reached out again, slowly this time.

Domingo forced himself to remain still. Lalo cupped his face and ran a thumb over the place he’d hit him. “That’s going to be a nasty bruise, I think.” He clucked sympathetically. “Poor Domingo. We got off to a bad start, didn’t we?”

Was he supposed to respond? He settled on a vague nod.

“I would like to begin again. Let’s have fun tonight, yeah? And to show you I mean it, I’ve got some gifts for you.” Lalo picked up the mirror and a straw. “My first gift.”

Domingo accepted it. He didn’t do drugs often—one piece of advice from Nacho he actually followed. But right now, he could use a boost. Besides, you didn’t turn down a gift from a Salamanca. Taking the straw in hand, he snorted one of the lines.

A rush of euphoria surged through him, Lightning tingled through his veins, pleasure shining into the dark crevices of his mind. It was like the sun had burst out of the clouds and enveloped him in its rays. Suddenly, things seemed okay. No, better than okay—fantastic. Dangerous but thrilling, like a bungee dive into the abyss. He was a brave mountaineer ascending some unclimbable summit, and he'd look down from the top at the people below, who weren't brave like him, who would be content with their sad little lives while he set forth, and conquered.

Lalo took the mirror back and snorted a line, then passed it to Nacho. While Nacho was busy, Lalo crawled over Domingo and lay him flat on his back.

“Not so little anymore, mousey,” Lalo chuckled as he gripped Domingo’s hard cock. “Did Nacho kiss it and make it better?”

“Nobody’s kissed it yet,” Domingo blurted out. Cocaine made him chatty and too cheerful to be scared.

It was the right thing to say, anyway, because Lalo laughed like he’d just told a wonderful joke. “And who would you like to kiss your cock, hmm? Me?”

Domingo’s cheeks heated at the intensity of his stare. “If you want to.”

Lalo’s teeth flashed. “You are too cute—I could just eat you up!” He pounced, his mouth on Domingo’s throat first and then descending, licking and nipping his way down.

Lalo swallowed him to the root in one gulp. Domingo’s eyes crossed as his whole body exploded in pleasure. He was helpless in its throes, writhing in the silk sheets. Wave after wave crashed over him, leaving him gasping for air. Holy shit, Lalo was good at this.

And then it stopped. Domingo keened at the loss, every nerve buzzing for more. Lalo nibbled his thigh before moving up to face him again. “You liked that, yeah? Enough to forgive me?”

“Maybe.” Christ, coke made him stupid.

Lalo laughed and patted his ass. “See, Nacho? He likes to play.”

Domingo sobered. Nacho. How had he forgotten him? He was still there, sitting cross-legged on the bed.

Lalo tugged Domingo to a sitting position and grabbed the mirror from the nightstand. He did another line and passed it to Domingo. He frowned. There had been four lines to start. Domingo had one, Lalo had two, and now Domingo was having the last one. Nacho hadn’t taken any. He wondered if Lalo noticed.

Another surge of euphoria, stronger than the first. The mirror was returned to the nightstand, and Lalo curled up behind Domingo, resting his chin on his shoulder. Nacho sat across from them, perfectly still.

Lalo picked up Domingo’s hand and brought it to his lips. “Now, let’s count my gifts to you. One—” He unfurled Domingo’s first finger and kissed it. “Some high-quality cocaine. Two—” Another finger, another kiss. “An even higher quality blow job.” He pressed his lips to his ear. “I think you liked that quite a lot, eh chiquito?”

Domingo laughed—it was actually closer to a giggle. “Yeah.”

Lalo’s laughter rumbled against him, which made Domingo’s giggles worse. The only one there not laughing was Nacho. His back was as straight as a board, his eyes watchful. Domingo felt a prick of unease.

Lalo unfurled one more finger, but didn’t kiss it. “And now, my last gift to you. Can you guess what it is?”

Domingo’s breathing hitched. “No.”

“No? I’ll give you a hint. We were just talking about it, before Nacho joined us.”

His mind flashed back—crawling naked on the floor, his face slapped, nearly choked—

The giddiness rushed out of him. He felt trapped suddenly.

“Do you have a guess now?" Lalo continued. "No? Why, he’s sitting right in front of us!”

Domingo’s head spun. “What?”

Lalo’s lips were at his ear, his breath hot. “Tell Nacho what you told me. About your friend in high school.”

He furrowed his brow. “You mean Gabriel?”

“That was his name?” Lalo addressed Nacho. “Do you remember this Gabriel?”

Nacho remained still. “We met.”

The lips were back again. “Tell Nacho what you would do with Gabriel.”

Embarrassment rushed through him. “Oh. We just—we sometimes—fooled around.”

“You sucked his dick?”

Domingo bit his lip. “Yeah.”

“Did Gabriel ever fuck your ass?”

More embarrassment. “A-a couple times, yeah.”

“But you didn’t always think of Gabriel, did you? Who did you imagine it was?”

The rush of the cocaine hadn’t left him, but it didn’t feel good anymore. His skin crawled, his limbs twitched. He needed to get away, but Lalo’s arms around him were tight, and got tighter when he tried to move.

“No running away, mousey,” Lalo hissed. “Tell him what you told me.”

Domingo met Nacho’s gaze, thankful for once for its stoniness. Strong, like castle walls. “You,” he managed to gasp out.

“What did you imagine?”

Domingo wanted to look away, but he was pinned by Nacho’s gaze as much as Lalo’s embrace. “About you holding me.”

A laugh from Lalo. “Holding you? Very romantic. What else?”

“Kissing you. T-touching you.” Domingo blinked. A tear rolled down his cheek, and then another.

Lalo released him, but Domingo didn’t move. His heart thundered like he’d been running for miles, but there was nowhere to go, like a hamster on a wheel.

Lalo shifted until he was sitting beside them both. “Nacho, if Domingo had told you this all those years ago, what would you have said?”

When Nacho didn’t respond, Lalo tried again. “Would you have taken him in your arms, let him kiss you?”

Nacho shifted his gaze to Lalo. “No.”

“No, of course not. You would have been disgusted. The boy you thought of as your own brother, having such filthy thoughts about you. It would have made you sick.”

More tears. Domingo couldn’t seem to stop them.

Lalo turned back to Domingo and cupped his face. “What’s this? Tears? Oh no, we can’t have that.” He kissed his cheeks, his tongue flicking on his skin. “You aren’t kids anymore, are you? I want you to be happy! You see, for your last gift, I am giving Nacho to you for one night.”

Domingo wiped his nose on the back of his hand. Another trick? His body shook—he didn’t know what to do.

But then Nacho put his arms around him. Why? He was disgusted, wasn’t he? No, that was when they were teens. But he’d never told him, right? Past and present scrambled together. Nacho, his brother. His friend. His crush. His hero.

Whisperers in his ear again. It might have been Lalo, but it might have been the devil. Domingo couldn’t tell. “Why don’t you kiss him, like you dreamed all those years ago? Why don’t you—”

The voice stopped when Nacho reached around Domingo and gave Lalo a hard shove. “Enough. It’s him and me. That’s the idea, right?”

A beat of silence. “I suppose it is,” Lalo said at last. The heat behind him vanished. Lalo sat at the head of the bed, his back against the headboard. He watched them through half-lidded eyes as he lazily stroked his cock.

Nacho put a hand on Domingo’s face and gently turned him away. “Don’t look at him,” he whispered. “It’s just you and me, Mingo.” He kissed his lips with such tenderness that Domingo almost started crying again.

Nacho kept kissing him as he ran his hand down Domingo’s body, soothing him like a skittish colt. His hands were strong but gentle as well, just like Domingo had imagined. And the way he kissed—Domingo had never been kissed like this, never.

The cocaine high swept him up again, obliterating thought. His dick, which had wilted, sprung back to life as Nacho pressed into him. Nacho was hard, too—not disgusted at all. Nacho left his lips and moved to his neck, kissing the sensitive spot under his ear, and then his jaw, his throat, his chest.

He gasped when Nacho licked his nipple and cried out as he sucked it. No one had ever done that for him before. Moaning, he put a hand on Nacho’s head, holding him there, never wanting it to stop. Nacho took a hold of his dick and stroked it as he worried the nipple. Domingo rocked against him, desperate little cries escaping from his lips.

“Careful, Nacho,” Lalo said. “You’re going to end things too soon if you keep that up.”

Nacho pulled off. “Shut up.”

Domingo’s heart spiked as he waited for the hit that was sure to come, but Lalo just laughed. Of course he did—Nacho was a lion tamer, after all.

“Here, catch,” Lalo said, tossing something to Nacho—a condom and a tube of lube. Nacho stared at them for a moment before putting them aside and turning his attention back to Domingo, giving him another kiss. “Okay?” he asked quietly. He opened and closed his fist, reminding him of their signal.

But Domingo didn’t need it. “Yes,” he said, putting his arms around Nacho’s neck. “Yes, please, yes.”

Nacho kissed him, only stopping when they were both breathless. He picked up the lube, squirted some on his fingers, and brought them between Domingo’s legs. Domingo spread open, allowing Nacho access. Slow circles at first, and then Nacho pressed one finger forward.

Domingo inhaled as it breached him. It had been a long time since he’d been fucked, but he fingered himself sometimes when he jacked off, and had even convinced a few girls to do it when they blew him. He rocked into it, begging for more. Nacho obliged.

Nacho took his time. Just when he thought he was going to have to beg, Nacho pulled out. The condom wrapper crinkled, another squirt of lube, and then Nacho was over him again, pushing his knees back until he was almost bent in half. He pressed the head of his cock against Domingo’s hole.

“Ready?” Nacho murmured.

Domingo moaned. “Yes.”

Pressure, and then fire as Nacho breached him. It didn’t take long for Domingo to adjust, especially since Nacho’s thrusts were so gentle. “Harder,” he breathed.

He thought he heard a laugh from Lalo, but he tuned it out. It was just them, like Nacho had said. Lalo became easier to ignore as Nacho sped up, really fucking him now.

Moans spilled from his lips. He stroked his dick as the pleasure washed over him, each wave stronger than the one before, until he crested at last, screamed as pulse after pulse of come splashed over his stomach and chest.

Nacho eased his legs down and withdrew. As Domingo panted in the afterglow, he found himself shoved aside. Lalo tackled Nacho, his mouth crashing against Nacho’s, so hard he heard their teeth click.

Domingo watched on, bemused, as Lalo devoured him. He rolled the condom off Nacho’s dick and tossed it aside, then grabbed the lube. After slicking his fingers, Lalo brought them between Nacho’s legs and shoved two fingers inside him.

Nacho cried out, but not with pain. Lalo mouthed at his neck as he fucked him with his fingers, drawing sounds out of Nacho that Domingo hadn’t known he was capable of making. His back arched and he came, screaming.

Nacho crashed down to the bed. With a feral smile, Lalo licked him clean. He gave his mouth one more searing kiss before turning his attention to Domingo.

Before he could react, Lalo grabbed him and tossed him to the bed. He straddled his face and grabbed him by the hair, pulling his face to his crotch. Domingo opened his mouth and let Lalo’s dick in. It only took a few thrusts, and Domingo’s mouth flooded with Lalo’s release. Lalo didn’t take his dick out until Domingo swallowed it.

They all laid on the bed, panting. Domingo’s high started to fade, and ugly reality began to seep in around the edges of his consciousness. He squeezed his eyes shut, as if he could stave it off.

Lalo was the first to get up. He gave Nacho a kiss before springing out of bed. “Shower,” he said cheerfully. “You coming?”

Nacho shook his head. Lalo looked to Domingo and raised an eyebrow in invitation. Was it safe to say no? Domingo shook his head.

Lalo shrugged and bounded off, whistling. The faucet gurgled on, followed by the spray of the shower.

Nacho wiped himself down with the sheet and got out of bed. Domingo wasn’t sure his limbs still worked, so he shut his eyes and laid there while Nacho got dressed.

He opened them again when Nacho touched his shoulder. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Domingo frowned. “But won’t he—”

“Let me worry about him.” Nacho held out Domingo’s clothes, fetched from the living room floor.

Slowly, Domingo sat up. Nacho helped him into his clothes as if he were a little kid. Steam and heat rolled out of the bathroom, like smoke from a house on fire. Lalo’s whistles had turned into singing, his smooth baritone voice crooning some corrido—  
  


_Dicen que mis animales van a a acabar con la gente,_

_Pero no es obligación que se les pongan enfrente,_

_Mis animales son bravos,_

_Si no saben torear pues no le entren…_

***

Domingo rested his face against the car window. The cool glass felt good on his overheated skin. In spite of everything, he nearly drifted off, but was shaken into consciousness again when the car stopped.

He opened his eyes. They were in the parking lot of his apartment complex.

Nacho shut off the ignition and stared at the wheel of the car. “You need to make yourself scarce for a while,” he said, not looking up. “Stick to your turf. Don’t come into the restaurant, not for a few weeks.”

“But—”

Nacho hit the steering wheel. “For once in your goddamn life, can you just fucking do what I tell you?”

Domingo winced. He guessed he deserved that.

Nacho rubbed his face vigorously. “I told you to go home. I practically _begged_ you. But you don’t listen—you never fucking listen.” He looked up—his eyes were red. “I was shot in the gut in the desert and left to die—do you want a piece of that action, too?”

He folded his arms and slouched into his seat. “No.”

“Are you sure? Because you come to me, over and over again, and ask me to lead you into hell. And you never take no for an answer. Do you know what that’s like for me?”

Domingo blinked back tears. He couldn’t cry now.

Nacho rubbed his face again, breathed in deep. “Go on, get some rest. I’ll talk to you later.” He made to turn on the car again.

But Domingo couldn’t leave it there. “Is that where you are?” he asked quietly. “Hell?”

Nacho didn’t answer, but his hand fell away from the ignition.

Domingo took that as permission to keep going. “Does he hurt you like he hurt me?”

Nacho ran a hand over his mouth. “No,” he said. “It’s not like that between us.”

“Then what is it like?”

Nacho laughed humorlessly. “I couldn’t explain it if I tried.” He dipped his head until their gazes met. “Hey. I’m fine—nothing I can’t handle. But I need you to promise me that you’ll listen from now on. Okay?”

Domingo gave a short nod. “Okay.”

Nacho reached across him and opened the door. “Go on, then.”

Domingo got out of the car with shaky legs. He was halfway to his building when the other car door opened and Nacho came out. “Hey!”

He turned back. “Yeah?”

Nacho strode towards him and grabbed him in a fierce hug—not a lover’s embrace, but a brother’s.

They rocked together for what seemed like a long time. Finally, Nacho released him. “Something happening to you—that I can’t handle. I just thought you should know.”

Domingo rubbed his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry—”

Nacho hugged him again, shushed him. “You’re okay, it’ll be okay.”

It was a lie. They both knew it. But it was one they needed to hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, that's a new low for Lalo. What an asshole.
> 
> Next up, we're back to Nacho and Lalo and their domestic hell. Working title - "Nowhere Else to Go," although that might change.
> 
> The song Lalo sings is Mis Tres Animales by Los Tucanes de Tijuana.
> 
> Translation -  
> They say my animals are going to kill people  
> But it is not an obligation to face them  
> My animals are brave  
> If they don't know how to fight then don't get into it
> 
> PS - I usually only check the Lacho tag so I almost missed [this great fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23249407) by Pandir all about Lalo - I really think you'll like it!


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